


and if i'm wrong

by turnontheghostlight



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: College, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, brian "two brain cells" gilbert, briefly, kind of?, this is just brian being dumb as shit that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnontheghostlight/pseuds/turnontheghostlight
Summary: Jonah and Brian are not dating.(Right?Right.)





	and if i'm wrong

**Author's Note:**

> kjshgkjsghksl; it's late so i may redo this foreword tomorrow but So BAsically I'm Babie and this fic took too long so i muscled my way to the ending yeehaw. we love college boyfriends i think? yeah
> 
> kudos+comments appreciated as always!

Jonah and Brian are not dating.

Right?

Right.

They never kiss—not in public. But, well. They kiss sometimes, in the privacy of their shared dorm room, because Jonah always kisses sweet and careful, and Brian likes the way his stubble prickles.

(“Why do you _shave_ ,” he always bemoans when Jonah returns from the bathroom clean-faced.

“Because I want to,” Jonah answers simply, and grins when Brian grumbles in response.)

And yeah, their friends joke that they seem attached at the hip— _Scott and Gilbert, never apart_ —and maybe there’s some truth in the statement, but. Well.

Jonah’s never said anything about it, and Brian has a strict personal no-dating-close-friends rule left over from junior year of high school, and so even if they kiss sometimes and they’re always together and Jonah is funny and good-looking and Brian’s best friend-

They’re not _dating_.  
  
  
  


(They are tipsy and sleep-deprived the first time they kiss, giggling and leaning into each other while Brian slurs, “Practice, it’s practice,” like they’re in middle school, and Jonah nods sagely before dissolving into laughter against his mouth.

They don’t talk about it the next day, but it happens again a week later, and just keeps happening after that.

They don’t talk about it.)  
  
  


 

Brian takes Jonah home to meet his family one weekend, because they’re good good friends and at this point have sort of basically kind of started a band together, so this seems like an appropriate thing to do.

Brian’s mom is instantly taken by Jonah’s sheepdog-like charm, and Laura is preposterously nosy, bombarding him with what feels like every question under the sun, relevant or practical or not. Jonah glances over at Brian with that distinct _help me, asshole_ expression, and Brian is happy to do absolutely nothing.

“Laura, ease off of him,” their mom says in a moment of pity while she wipes off her hands before joining them at the dinner table. “You’re scaring him out of his skin.”

Brian snorts, because he knows from the look on Jonah’s face that he’s not so much terrified as he is paralyzed by both courtesy and bemusement (and also that, under it all, he’s a little bit entertained—Laura has that effect).

Laura does let off just a smidge, though, because if there’s one person in the world the Gilberts respect, it’s their mom. But still:

“How bad has it been living with Bribri? He never cleaned up after himself here, I can’t imagine it got much better-”

“Hey!”

Jonah laughs behind his hand, unapologetic when Brian glares at him. “No, he’s-” He pauses like he’s very seriously considering his words. “He’s alright. Not any worse than I am. We have basically the same sleep schedules too, so. Things work out.”

Laura nods slowly, her eyes darting between the two of them with something like suspicion. Before she can say anything else, though, Janet interrupts to offer the potatoes, Jonah gladly accepts, and the subject is seemingly dropped.

That is, until Jonah leaves the table to go to the bathroom and their mom goes to let Moose out, leaving Laura and Brian alone in the dining room. Laura immediately turns on her brother, pointing a sharp finger at him. _Oh boy_.

“Alright, fess up. How in the _world_ did you snag such a sweet, unassuming boy, Brian?”

_What._

“What?”

“You heard me, mister!” The finger wags. “What lies are you telling that poor guy to get him so smitten with you? Not that I’m not proud of you, but-”

“Wh- Jonah and I aren’t- we’re not-” Brian balks. “We’re not dating,” he finishes, voice at a whisper.

Laura raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah—why would I not be sure?”

“Does _he_ know that?”

“Of course-”

“How do you know?”

Brian feels like he’s going to have a stroke. “Well, he never- we never talked about it, and he doesn’t- Jonah doesn’t like guys.”

( _Except you_ , his brain supplies, but he squashes it down. They’re just friends. Friends that kiss sometimes.)

(Right?)

(Right.)

“Okay, because he looks at you like you hung the moon, kid, and it’s really cute but if you haven’t told him you guys aren’t actually dating-”

“He _knows_ , Laura,” Brian insists, because this is a weird conversation and he would like it to stop.

“I think that’s just what you think.”

Brian doesn’t get the chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, as Jonah reenters the room then, looking none the wiser as he flashes Brian a questioning smile. Brian, having no idea what he could possibly say, just beams wordlessly back. Laura waits until Jonah sits back down, then immediately picks the conversation from earlier back up with a fervor.

Brian puts his head in his hands and groans.  
  
  
  


Jonah is quiet, for the most part, on the way back. It’s a contemplative silence, Brian can tell, from how Jonah’s brows keep knitting together only to relax again a few moments later and his fingers drum against the steering wheel.

Finally, he speaks: “Your sister is a lot like you.”

Brian laughs, and hopes it sounds less nervous than it feels. “Right, yeah. Sorry about that.”

Jonah slots a sideways, unreadable look at him. “No, it’s cool. I like her.” A beat, then, “You two are really similar, it’s funny.”

 _Huh._ “How so?”

“It’s the energy, mostly,” Jonah admits. “I don’t know how you keep that level of energy up all the time—what did your mom feed you guys as kids?”

That draws a throaty laugh from Brian that surprises himself, one that Jonah looks rather pleased about. “I dunno, not enough, evidently. Look at me, Jonah, I’m a damn twig.”

Jonah laughs softly, shaking his head, before falling back into that contemplative silence that lasts the rest of the drive. Brian rests his head against the window, watching the lights pass by, and thinks about songs.  
  
  


 

It gets cold, at the turn of winter, and their heater absolutely shits itself. Brian crawls into Jonah’s bed at about 1 AM one night, mutters, “Move over, oaf.” Jonah just chuckles and wiggles closer to the wall to make room.

It’s a tight fit, unsurprisingly—Jonah is stupidly tall, and Brian’s limbs seem to take up an inordinate amount of space—but it works. It’s definitely warmer than sleeping in their own beds, so the goal has been met.

Jonah’s arm finds a place slung over Brian’s stomach as Brian tangles their legs together. “Sasquatch legs,” Jonah says under his breath. Brian worms a hand up from beneath the covers to smack him gently on the forehead in retaliation.

“I’ll kick your ass, Jonah Scott, don’t think I won’t.”

“Ooh, scary.”

Brian delights in the yelp he startles from Jonah when he rolls over and sits up so he’s pinned Jonah’s arms, bony knees pressing down but not digging in. “Try me,” he taunts. Jonah’s lips quirk, then, and- _uh oh_.

Brian is on his back again in a flurry of movement. Jonah hovers over him with that wonderful little half-smile, heavy-lidded eyes examining him, carefully. Brian licks his lips instinctively; the quick dart of Jonah’s gaze to his mouth and back up does not go unnoticed.

“Hey Jonah,” Brian whispers, sing-song.

“Hey Brian,” Jonah murmurs back, now unabashedly staring. “Asshole,” he tacks on, as if to save face.

Looking up at Jonah, something stirs in Brian’s stomach, a sort of _this is going too far_ feeling _._ This is… intimate. More intimate than anything they’ve done before. Usually their _moments_ are quick and half-realized and sleep-drunk, or otherwise drunk. Not like this, entirely lucid, bright-eyed in the half-light filtering in from the streetlamp outside the window, nothing to blame this on in the morning to justify not talking about it.

It’s too quiet.

Jonah’s breath stirs Brian’s hair.

He leans in, then, and Brian, despite his better judgement— _this is too far, this feels like dating, you’re not dating_ —lets him close the gap, press their lips together. It’s like he’s cut Jonah loose; he melts into Brian, tangles a hand in his hair. Their noses bump. Jonah hasn’t shaved in a few days. It prickles Brian’s skin in the way he likes. It’s too good, too real.

 _Too far_.

Brian breaks away with a palm flat against Jonah’s chest, breath shallow where it’s caught high in his throat. Jonah looks confused for a moment, then seems to realize something in Brian’s face. He sits up, an action that feels like it takes him so so far away, his mouth a tight line. Cold air washes over Brian in the absence of his warmth.

“Jonah,” Brian starts.

“No, it’s- it’s fine.” Jonah avoids his eyes as he lies back down, gingerly. He can’t leave space between them—the bed is still too small—but the line of their bodies meeting is tense. “Goodnight, Brian.”

 _You’re not dating_ , Brian reminds himself. _You don’t date your best friends._

“Goodnight.”  
  
  
  


Jonah is gone by the time Brian wakes up, even though it’s only fifteen ‘til 9 and Brian knows Jonah—who loves to sleep in—has his 8 AM class on Tuesdays, not Mondays.

He considers texting him, but his fingers stall on the keyboard. He has no idea what to say.

 _Sorry for making it weird last night_.

 _No, that’ll make it weirder_. Brian backspaces.

_We doing lunch today?_

_Too casual_. He deletes the message and tries again.

_Please don’t hate me._

_Fuck this_ , Brian decides then, and throws his phone down onto the pillow before falling back onto the sheets with a loud sigh. _Stupid Gilbert. Stupid feelings. Stupid Jonah Scott. Stupid stupid stupid._  
  
  


 

“You guys just need to fucking date.”

Brian groans into the cold, uncaring pages of his math book. “What are you talking about,” he asks, even though he knows exactly what Nick is talking about. He’s been, as Nick sympathetically put it, “weird and mopey” for two days now, and Jonah has been largely absent from group activities for about as long. Fuck Brian’s whole life, or something.

“You and Jonah,” Nick elaborates superfluously. “You keep dancing around each other and it makes you guys sad and it’s really annoying for the rest of us.”

“Fuckin’ thanks, man,” Brian grunts.

“I’m just saying. I think Jonah’s gonna start writing lovelorn songs about you by the end of the week unless you get your shit together. Get over your weird arbitrary no-dating-friends rule, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

Nick snorts. “Do you see yourself right now, buddy?” When Brian doesn’t respond, he continues, “No, really, let’s go over this again, yeah? Where do we begin.”

“Do we have to.”

“ _Yes._  Okay, so.” Nick holds up a hand and counts off: “First thing’s first, you don’t date friends because of some shit that happened in eleventh grade. Great. Secondly, you and Jonah are making out-”

“We don’t _make out_ -”

“- _kissing_ all the damn time. Three, you get weird about the kissing and now he’s sad as all shit about it. And you, in spite of all this, still think this doesn’t mean anything because _remind me why again?_ ”

“Jonah’s straight,” Brian says, though the conviction in his voice doesn’t sound all that great even to himself.

The statement earns him an exasperated noise as Nick throws his arms into the air. “What the _fuck_ makes you think that?”

“He doesn’t like talking about us. Like, _us_. And he’s never said anything about liking guys, and…”

“I’d like to point once again to the kissing all the time thing.”

“That’s not- well. That’s just. Because… kissing is… nice.”

“Brian, you are so dumb.”

“You know what,” Brian sighs, turning his head to look at Nick but not deigning to raise it from his textbook. Nick grins. “I regret telling you anything about us, ever.”

Nick just pats him on the shoulder as he hops off his perch on the neighboring desk, stooping to pick up his backpack. “Cute. Anyways, I’m going to my actual class now, bye Brian! Have fun with your math and also your romantic incompetence!”

Brian raises a weak arm to flip him off. Nick’s answering laugh follows him out the door.  
  
  
  


(“He’s right,” Laura says, when Brian tells her about the situation during a late-night phone call that evening. “Get it together, Bribri.”

“ _Laura_.”

“He likes you a lot and you like him, c’mon. I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me-”

Laura cuts him off, tutting. “Shush. Your big sister is speaking.”

“I can’t- it’s not that simple. He’s my friend, I don’t want to fuck that up-”

“Just talk to him,” Laura says in a voice that leaves no room for questions. She continues in a softer tone, “Let’s put it this way. You like him, right?”

Brian gulps. _Well_. “Well.”

Jonah is… his best friend. Jonah is kind, and loving, and loyal, and makes Brian laugh every goddamn day. He tears up over puppies and takes spiders out when Brian screams at them. He plays guitar like a madman (and several other instruments besides) and has a voice that sounds like it’s been dipped in gold and never once complains about the weird crazy songs Brian wants to write because he might be some sort of saint and-

 _Ohh god_ , Brian is in love with him.

“Brian?” Laura’s voice comes floating up through the phone, pulling him back into the present space and time.

“Y-yeah,” Brian stutters. “Yeah. I do. Like him.”

“Well, there you go. Most important part is settled. Now you just gotta go talk to him.” Accurately interpreting the silence as anxiety, Laura adds, “I believe in you, Bri. You’re one of the best people in the world and I think he knows that.”

It feels like Brian’s whole body warms at that. “Thanks, Laura.”

“Anything for my baby brother. Now go the hell to sleep, it’s too damn late for you.”

Brian’s smiling as he prepares to hang up. “Love you, Laura.”

“Love you too.”)  
  
  
  


Jonah’s still awake when Brian slips quietly into their room, seated at his desk with his back turned to the door. He’s got his guitar in his lap and his laptop in front of him, typing something.

“Hey,” Brian says.

Jonah jumps, closing whatever he was working on and whipping around in his chair so fast his guitar nearly clatters to the floor. “Hey,” he responds, voice a little high.

“Whatcha up to?” Brian sidles closer, risks a peek at Jonah’s laptop. He’s been writing chords. Lots of minors and sevenths, from the looks of it. Jonah’s fingers twitch; Brian gets the impression he wants to slam his laptop shut but won’t out of courtesy.

“Just, uh, writing some songs. You know.” He won’t meet Brian’s eyes, which just sort of makes him feel awful. The silence that stretches between them, to put it in the most eloquent of terms, fucking _sucks_.

“Hey, I’m sorry about the other night,” Brian blurts. Jonah tenses. “I wasn’t- I’m sorry I made it weird.”

Jonah plucks a fidgeting note on his guitar. “No, it’s fine, Brian.” There’s a catch between the syllables of his name. “I just… misinterpreted. It’s not a problem.”

“You didn’t, though, that’s the thing.”

That grabs Jonah’s attention. Brian’s mouth twists as he searches for the right way to say this.

“You weren’t doing anything wrong - holy _shit_ , Jonah you never- you’ve never done anything wrong between the two of us. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m, uh, not sure how to take that,” Jonah says slowly. His expression keeps shifting like he’s still trying to figure out what is happening, which, well. Fair enough.

“I fuck up _so goddamn much_ , Jonah, you have no clue. How did you get stuck with me.”

“What?”

“I keep bugging out over some stupid shit because I’m, what, scared? Of fucking this up? But _holy shit_ , Jonah.”

Jonah’s catching on now; he sets his guitar aside and reaches for Brian’s hand. Brian gladly lets him take it. “Bri,” he says, and lets the vowel linger.

“I want to kiss you, like, all the fucking time but I don’t let myself because?” He makes a vague motion with his free hand that’s supposed to indicate his dumb thick skull. “I’m stupid?”

“You’re not,” Jonah says quietly. “Or, I dunno, you are, but that’s not stopping you.”

Brian scrunches his nose at him. “Thanks, Jonah, I appreciate that.”

Jonah laughs all soft and gentle and perfect, and honestly? At this point? _Fuck it._

Brian uses the grip he has on Jonah’s hand to yank him out of his seat, meets him most of the way up, and kisses him. And Jonah, sweet and careful Jonah, frames Brian’s face in his hands and kisses back.

“This is a legit kiss, by the way,” Brian mumbles when they break for air, “Just in case that wasn’t clear, because I know I’ve just been spouting bullshit.”

“I figured,” Jonah murmurs back, breath hot on Brian’s lips. “I’m usually pretty good at deciphering your bullshit.”

“This is true,” Brian concedes. “Now decipher this.” He leans up on his tiptoes, puckers his lips obnoxiously.

“What’s that, no more kissing? Got it.” Jonah chuckles when Brian makes a high-pitched sound of protest, chasing where he pulls away.

“Get back here, Jonah Scott, I’m so mad at you-”

“I can tell,” Jonah starts, but any other clever quip is muffled by Brian’s lips on his.  
  
  
  


(“Oh, gross,” Nick says at their next group lunch outing, when Jonah lets Brian steal as many of his fries as he wants.

“We always do this,” Brian huffs. “What’s the deal?”

“The subtext is different now. Gross, guys.”

Jonah lobs a fry bit at Nick, who ducks and comes back up looking thoroughly affronted. “Sounds like a you problem, buddy.”

“You know what,” Nick mutters, pointing his milkshake threateningly in Brian’s direction when he raises a hand clutching several fries. “I regret helping you at all sometimes.”

“Hey, look at it this way.” Brian lowers his hand and immediately moves to snag one of Jonah’s chicken wings, continuing to ignore his own perfectly good food. “You were right about Jonah not being straight.”

“Feels like a hollow victory, somehow.”

“Eh, that’s for you to sort out. Jonah and I are gonna go work on a song and make out or something now, bye Nick!” Brian grabs the rest of Jonah’s food and bolts. The answering groan behind him is incredibly satisfying if nothing else.)  
  
  


 

Jonah and Brian are dating.

It’s very good.

Jonah writes Brian a song for his birthday, and Brian doesn’t let him out of his bed for most of the morning after as he kisses him senseless.

His stubble prickles, because Jonah doesn’t shave nearly as often anymore, much to Brian’s delight. Jonah kisses sweet and careful while Brian pushes a little further, taking the itch of Jonah’s beard against his skin as some sort of challenge, and every time Jonah just laughs and lets him.

(“Why was I keeping this from myself,” Brian rants into the phone to his sister, who giggles.

“Repressed feelings are a bitch,” is the explanation she helpfully provides.

And as much as Brian wants to argue with that, he really can’t.)

“Love you,” Brian calls one morning as Jonah’s rushing out the door to his 8 AM. Jonah stops short in his tracks, and for a second Brian thinks he’s said something wrong. Then Jonah turns around, and his eyes are filled with so much affection it’s almost intimidating.

“Love you too, Bri,” Jonah says, soft and gentle and perfect, then is out the door.

So, yeah. That’s pretty good.


End file.
